Inevitable
by prospectkiss
Summary: Disguised as her sister, Iris should have known that it would come to a bedroom encounter with Phoenix.


This was written as a gift for susako for the Ace Attorney holiday gift swap. The request was: Disguised as her sister, Iris should have known that it would come to a bedroom encounter with Phoenix... But she didn't expect to enjoy it this much.

* * *

She had only a little spiritual power, but it was enough for her to sense that something was going to happen, something that was frightening and exhilarating and wholly inevitable. It would happen soon.

It would happen tonight.

She knocked lightly on the dorm room door, her pulse pounding and her skin tingling. Where Phoenix lightly touched the small of her back, guiding her inside, she felt a warm current trickle up her spine, enough to make her breath turn shallow.

Phoenix had no money, no extra income to waste on baubles and shiny things to show his affection. So when he handed her the flower, an exquisite purple bloom with velvet petals, she knew he had saved up for it, and she felt her tears threaten to spill out.

"It's your flower, Dollie," he said, smiling and brushing his thumbs at the corners of her eyes. "A dahlia. But I don't think it's nearly as beautiful as you."

Her tears welled anew and she pressed close to him, breathing in the scent of clean soap and boyish musk, loving him and hating her deceit and unsure which emotion was winning.

The movie was unimportant; the story and music were just background to the weight of Phoenix next to her on the bed and the steady sound of his heartbeat where she nestled against his chest. The soft glow from the screen was the only illumination in the little room, bathing them in shadows that hid any flaws. As the credits rolled past she lifted her head, shifted and pressed her lips against his.

Phoenix had been shy, almost hesitant, the first time he cupped her cheek and gave her her first kiss: soft, chaste, barely any pressure. Each kiss after had given him more confidence, more skill, more chances to leave her with her head spinning and yearning for more. This time he held her fast against him, and his lips covered hers with an intensity she had never before experienced but immediately craved.

She molded against him, felt the warmth and strength of his body moving against her. His hands slid through her hair, settled around her waist; hers grasped his arms, felt his muscles tighten as he hugged her to him. Each little movement, each instance where they pressed together filled her with a need for more contact, for more of this goofy, loyal, too-trusting man.

His mouth was sweet and hot, his tongue deft and teasing, and she heard a moan, a small noise of pleasure escape her.

Immediately he pulled back and looked at her with half-lidded eyes, the deep blue hue only a sliver around dark pupils. That look thrilled her, filled her with a giddy sort of terror that made her blood thrum. She knew the expression, knew instinctually what it meant, and some distant part of her wondered what the sisters at the temple would say if they could see the matching expression on her own face.

He kissed her again, his movements heavy and lingering, and he tilted his head and slid his lips to the corner of her mouth. She froze, her lips halted and her breathing stalled; and slowly, so slowly, he moved further, pressing his mouth against her chin, her jaw, trailing down her delicate neck, and her throat hitched.

That was his confirmation. He pressed more firmly, caressing her skin with warm lips and tongue. She was helpless; she couldn't stop her gasps, couldn't keep her fingers from pressing into Phoenix's back and drawing him nearer. She arched as he brought his hands to her sides, didn't halt him when he slid her slender dress straps down and kissed across her pale, bare shoulders.

He looked up at her, breathing hard. "Dollie," he said, his voice low, "Do you- do you want…" He couldn't finish, a bright red flush streaking across his cheeks as he swallowed the words. But his expression, his eyes silently asked if this was all right, if this was good, was wanted.

And everything inside her answered yes.

"Feenie," she breathed, felt him shudder against her, and she grasped his hand. She kissed the tops of his fingers, brushed her lips against his knuckles, nuzzled his skin. She had come to admire those hands: hands that would pull her behind him, protecting, or twine with her own, or pull her close, holding tightly. She lingered, letting the warmth of his hands seep into her own.

She could stop this. All she had to do was show the slightest hesitation, and Phoenix would laugh, sweet and nervous, and rub that hand behind his neck and apologize, and promise to never do anything she didn't feel comfortable doing.

_Shouldn't_ she stop this? After all, she was only supposed to retrieve the necklace, the one that glinted off his shirt in menacing reminder of her true purpose. Was _this_ something she was supposed to do? To want? She heard her sister laughing at her in her mind.

Her resolve hardened into something solid, something bright and sharp. She was frightened. She was exhilarated. In the end, it was wholly inevitable.

She lifted her eyes and put all the truth she couldn't say out loud into one smoldering look. She held on to Phoenix's gaze as she lifted his hand and splayed it against her chest, between her breasts, his fingers edging the top of her dress.

His eyes flew wide, and his own breath hitched.

She might have said _Please_, or _Yes_, or even his name, but she didn't pay attention to her words as she leaned forward, settled into his lap, and captured his lips. His hand was trapped between them, and as she kissed him again, and again, his fingers curled and slid down, dragging the fabric to her waist.

She would let it happen tonight.

His touches were light, his palms warm and gentle. She arched into him as he cupped her small breasts, his thumbs rubbing at her nipples and making her shiver with unexpected pleasure. He shifted and lowered his head, replacing his hands with his mouth, reverently kissing her pale, soft skin.

"Dollie," he sighed. "You're so beautiful." There was an awed catch in his voice. He glanced up through dark lashes as he slowly kissed her breasts, her hardened nubs, eyes full of wonder and lust.

Even if he called her by the wrong name, even if she had to leave him tomorrow, or the day after, even if he never learned the truth of her presence by his side – for one night, at least, she would give him everything. And maybe some spirit out there had mercy on her because she didn't deserve for this to feel so… good.

She arched again, pressing herself closer to his warm mouth, clenching her fingers at his shoulders. Her hips rolled, ground down without her permission and found Phoenix hard against her. She wasn't sure which sound was louder: her surprised gasp, or his groan, a strangled noise that sent a primal thrill searing through her.

He came back to her face, hands brushing her cheeks as he kissed her deep, hips rocking up against her in return. He wanted this, wanted it as much as she did; and oh what it difference it made between _knowing_ he wanted this, from the look in his eyes, to _feeling_ the proof beneath her. This close together he could hide nothing from her – and for once, she had nothing to hide from him. She felt her body respond to him, felt heat seep between her legs.

She slipped her fingers beneath his shirt, just brushing against his stomach, and in one swift, startling movement Phoenix reared back and pulled it over his head. There was only time for her to catch a promising eyeful of his chest before Phoenix crushed himself to her. The feeling of so much bare skin meeting was shocking, like jumping into a pool of ice-cold water, except this was warm and wonderfully good. His hands caressed her back and her fingers moved against his sides, trailed over his ribs, as she pressed soft, timid kisses to his collar bone.

Phoenix was breathing in large gasps of air. "Dollie," he panted, pressing his head to the side of hers. "Please… Please tell me now if you want to stop." His hips shifted, a quick, halting movement that betrayed the effort it took him to hold still. "Because you feel so good, and I don't want to do anything you don't want to." He drew in a shaky breath, his fingers clenching her tightly. "But, but, I mean we can stop if you say so, anytime, y- you don't have to worry about–"

She turned her head and kissed him, stemming his words. The tears returned to her eyes; even now, he was putting her first. But tonight they would go together, and that resolve gave her the strength to voice what she wanted, and the very last thing she wanted was for them to _stop_.

She moved her lips to his ear, breath hot against it as she spoke. "Feenie, I- I want _this_. I want to- to feel you." She wanted to feel all of him, to make him gasp and moan and cry out in pleasure. He made a low noise, the sound rumbling through him and into her, down to her core, heightening her desire.

She pulled back, her face heating up as Phoenix's eyes shot down to her breasts once more, roaming over her milky skin, before guiltily meeting her gaze. His eyes said more than his words ever could, speaking volumes of his want and desire for her, of his unending trust and adoration; and with sudden clarity she knew she had more than words, too. She skimmed her hands down his chest, reveling at his little gasp as she brushed over his small, dark nipples, and with slow, purposeful movements she freed the button on his pants. The air stilled as she slipped her fingers beneath the band. His eyes closed, his mouth fell open as she gently brushed against his hardened length, his breath finally coming out in a low moan.

Dahlia had seen Phoenix as a vulnerable tool; and now, in her hand, wrapped around him and pulling more firmly, he was more vulnerable than she'd ever seen, helplessly rocking into her touch and letting his voice out in broken snatches of pleas and encouragement.

Dahlia had manipulated Phoenix; and for the first time she understood the thrill of power over another person as he moaned, and she wanted to hear him do it again, to call out to her, to need her, to know that she was the one making him feel such pleasure.

Dahlia had only cared about what she could take from Phoenix; and tonight she too would take from him – but she would also give to him, give all that she could.

With one last feather-light touch she withdrew her hand, and the whimpering sound Phoenix made was almost cute. Her next words would seal her intent, and she bit her lip. There would be no return from this, but anticipation ruled her instead of fear.

"W-We should be safe, right?" Her words stumbled though her meaning did not, and she spared a thought of thanks for the sisters who had given her a worldly education in addition to a spiritual one. Phoenix nodded numbly, stars still in his eyes, and tripped over his own feet and his falling pants in his rush to the bathroom.

Her light dress shimmied down her hips as she rose, and with a quick, graceful movement her panties followed. Only Dahlia and a few sisters had seen her bare – certainly never a male – and shyness overtook her. She stood with her back facing the entrance.

She didn't hear Phoenix approach but she sensed him behind her, felt the heat from his skin and smelled his musky scent, so strong now. His arms wrapped around her waist. "You're beautiful, Dollie," he said again, his voice a gentle whisper in her ear, his bare skin warm against her. "I want to make you feel good."

He turned her around, and this time to his credit he kept his gaze on her face, his own full of eagerness and desire.

"Please let me."

They lay on the bed again, pressed together on what little space it offered. He still wore the necklace, the only article left between them, and as he leaned toward her she felt it touch her skin, cold and mocking. She flinched.

"Wh-What's wrong?" He was so full of worry, so afraid he would somehow hurt her.

She touched the silver bottle with her fingertip. "Please, take that off." Her lips had almost formed her usual request to return the necklace, out of habit, and Phoenix must have caught the change in her words, his eyebrows furrowed.

He gave her a worried look, one that soon morphed into something like understanding. "Oh, I guess it's kinda cold, huh? Well, I'll put it back on right after, don't worry." Such a simple conclusion, though the trinket chilled her for reasons she'd rather him not know. His fingers rose to his neck. For the first time since she had seen him, known him – loved him – Phoenix took off the necklace and carefully laid it on his nightstand, next to the flower and a dusty box of condoms.

She had only a moment to think of snatching the bottle, of grabbing her dress and running away and calling for her twin; but then Phoenix kissed her, and her eyes fell closed, and thoughts of anything but the feeling of this very moment left her mind. There was nothing left between them, no more traces of her sister; she was with Phoenix because she wanted him.

His lips moved languid and slow against hers, and he ran his broad palm over her shoulder, down her breast, to her pert nipple, brushing and lightly pinching, and sweeping his tongue inside her mouth as she gasped. And then that hand moved down her stomach, across her hip, over her thigh. Heat rose to her cheeks, painting her features a pale red, as his fingertips trailed between her legs, brushed against her curls.

"Feenie," she breathed, leaning her head back. There was power in giving pleasure, in making Phoenix shudder and groan; and here, now, naked and vulnerable and with more than just her flesh exposed, there was also power in surrender. She opened to him, moving her legs against the soft duvet.

And oh, the pleasure that tumbled through her as he softly stroked her wet folds, gentle and hesitant, growing bolder as her breath hitched in her throat, as one of her hands curled around his neck and the other buried itself in the pillow, as halting little moans slipped past her lips. How different he felt from her own smooth hands, the few times she had touched herself: rougher, broader, moving with slow, tentative touches instead of just steadily rubbing against her clitoris.

"More." She barely heard herself say it, a whisper between her pants. But Phoenix heard; his eyes widened, dark pupils reflecting her creamy skin, and her eyes fell closed as his fingers pressed against her more firmly, more surely. A hot coil of tension was forming in her lower stomach, the strange and familiar promise of release; she jerked as he brushed over her most sensitive nub.

"Oh! Oh, please…" Her voice was high, breathy, her back arched, her hips moved on their own to seek more of that touch.

"Dollie, I–" She felt him shift, nuzzling against her breast as his thumb flicked over that spot again. His mouth was a searing heat, his tongue circling around her nipple, matching the motions of his fingers. It was a beautiful torture, teasing and not-quite-enough. She carded her fingers through his hair, mussing up his spikes, urging him in a gasping lilt to keep going, just there, more, please, oh more…

And his hair moved out of her fingers, his mouth left her breast and moved down, down, laving her skin, leaving trails of wet heat that cooled quickly, tickling and arousing. His hands slid away from her, moved to her inner thighs and gently pushed. She was open, the cool air rushing to her wetness for only a moment – and her eyes opened in time to see Phoenix, her Feenie, so adoring, so eager, move between her legs and press a hard kiss to her sex.

Her breath caught, trapped somewhere between a gasp and a moan. He looked at up her, matched her gaze with eyes like liquid pools of dark blue. She felt his mouth move: "More." It wasn't a plea; it was an affirmation, a heated promise.

His tongue dipped into her folds in one slow, rough swipe, and a sharp, keening moan escaped her throat. His fingers had given her a slow, rousing touch, but this touch was new, unknown, more intimate and exciting. The tension coiled tighter, sharp-edged and throbbing, her attention acutely focused on the movements of his broad mouth, his wet tongue, lapping at her own wetness, his rumbles of effort and enjoyment that vibrated through his lips.

Her thighs trembled, shook, wavered in his arms and he held onto her, kept her still with a steady pressure; she was vulnerable and he was strong, and she could only let her back arc and head tilt, and endure. That clever tongue, so adept at twining with her own, was just as talented here, and he found the place that made her clench the sheets and her hips rock against him. Again, and again, he tasted her, moving over her in broad swipes, in teasing flicks, with the sharpened point of his tongue in rhythmic circles.

She stopped breathing all together, caught in a beautiful limbo as she reached her peak, body tensing and shaking like a crystal glass before shattering, waves of pleasure pulsing through her, cresting and ebbing, until she finally lay limp against the covers, gasping and glistening with sweat.

Phoenix moved his jaw one last time, pressed one more tender kiss to her, and rose. He found his discarded shirt and wiped at his mouth, eyes shining. The mattress dipped as he lay beside her once more, gingerly brushing her hair away from her face.

"Can I?" He moved his lips to hers, just a gentle touch; she took them between her own, tasting a strange sweet flavor, and pulled him down to her, skin melding against skin, so much sensation.

She had taken – and it was so, so good.

His length was pressed between them, rubbing against her stomach and leaking, hard and insistent, and Phoenix moved against her, gentle rocks that belied his need. Her lethargy lulled her to sleep, to curl up and dream. Instead, she lifted her hands to his chest, and like he had done to her thighs she gently pushed down, down, until he lay beneath her, and she shifted her leg over him, held his waist between her knees.

"D-Dollie?" His voice had a curious waver, a note of surprise. She leaned over him to the nightstand, letting the tips of her breasts rub against his chest, and his hands came to them, drawn like a magnet, kneading, until she sat back. She pulled a packet from the box, tore the foil. With only a little difficulty she rolled the latex down his length, and absurdly thought of the sisters' hoods, protecting against evil. She curled her hand around his length and rubbed gently along it, once, twice, and hovered over him.

He would be her first. A person never forgets their first, or so she had heard – from where, she couldn't say – and as she pressed her knees tighter, making Phoenix arch his back and groan, anticipation driving him mad, that tingling spiritual sense filled her, reassuring. She would have no regrets.

"Feenie." He looked at her, eyes wide and unbelieving and hopeful, and pleading, and she guided the tip of his length into her, stretching, burning, just at the edge of pain.

It was frightening, this aching sting; and it was exhilarating, knowing they were as close as any two people could be, knowing the pleasure she could, _would_, bring to him; and she slowly, inevitably plunged down, crying out as he was finally sheathed inside her.

The pain would only last a little bit; she gritted her teeth and breathed deep, adjusting to the sensation of being stretched, being _filled_. Phoenix's breaths were shallow, quick little bursts of air, matching the throb and pulse of his length inside her. His hands gripped the sides of her legs, short nails digging into her pale skin, and she dimly noted that she would have red splotches on the outside of her thighs, from his grip, to match the red marks on her inner thighs from his stubble. She laughed, a short, dry giggle.

The sharp sting faded, a dull ache, and she rose, as slowly as she had fell, until only the head of his erection remained inside; and she sank, more quickly, taking him all in again in one slick slide. His chest rumbled beneath her fingers, a groan erupted from his mouth, low and husky, and she thrilled to hear his voice, so filled with need. She rose and fell again, and again, gripping him inside her wet heat, so tight, and his voice rose in pitch, wordless cries of pleasure that satisfied something deep and primal inside her.

Phoenix suddenly sat up, halting her movements, and lifted her off, with as much carefulness as his haste allowed, and settled her beneath him, settled between her legs once more. With hardly a word of warning he thrust into her, thrust deep, and they both cried out.

Back and out, slow, lingering, then a quick rush, a searing plunge inside, over and over. He held her with one arm and used the other for leverage, moving faster.

"Dollie – Dollie – Dollie…" He chanted it like a litany, and it was the wrong name, but it didn't matter, because it was _her _name, the name he called her by, the name he loved her by.

The tension returned to her core, but without urgency. He felt good inside her, though she sensed she would not come again, at least not tonight; so she focused on him, listened to his moans, shifted her hips to meet his thrusts, trailed her fingers against his chest, so close to her breasts. She brushed against his nipples and lifted slightly to kiss his neck, kiss the junction with his shoulder, taste his sweat-slick skin, musky and masculine, and on a whim she lightly grazed her teeth against him.

It was enough; he tensed, back arching impossibly, buried deep inside her, and for a long moment he held still, clenching at her back, until a cry ripped itself from his throat. He lowered his head to hers, shaking, and she felt him pulse within her, throbbing, until with a broken moan he collapsed next to her.

Their hard breaths were the only sound in the room. She shifted, moving away until Phoenix slipped free of her, standing on unsteady legs to visit the bathroom. She was sore, would be sore for quite a while; but she was satisfied. More than that – she was filled with a beautiful sadness, an aching happiness.

The duvet was pulled up when she returned, hiding Phoenix beneath, but he opened it for her, opened his arms to her, and pulled her close against him, wrapping around her, nuzzling against her, surrounding her, wordlessly inviting her to stay.

"I love you." His words were low, dull with sleep, but earnest, honest. Her heart fluttered, trembled. She faced the nightstand, where the necklace lay in a coil next to the purple flower. Her fingers reached out, hovering, shaking, until she finally grasped the stem and pulled the soft blossom to her chest.

It had happened tonight.

"…I love you too."

But he was already asleep, breathing quietly behind her.

Dollie brushed away her tears, and closed her eyes.


End file.
